Let's Play a Game
by Alyssa Blackbourn
Summary: Peter and Neal get caught in the crossfire at a bank robbery. But wait, all is not as it seems, and before Peter knows what's going on, Neal is gone. Someone is playing a deadly game with Peter. Who will win? Please review. Unsure if I should continue...
1. Borrowed, Not Stolen

**_Thank you for reading! I'm a little unsure about this one, so please let me know if you like it so I can decide whether or not I should continue with it._**

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><p>"I don't see what the big deal is, Peter," Neal said with a sigh, walking into the bank.<p>

"You stole my car!" Peter exclaimed.

"I did not steal it!" Neal protested. "I borrowed it without permission."

"That's called stealing, Neal!" Peter said, annoyed.

"No, that's called friendship, Peter," Neal said with one of his award-winning smiles.

Peter rolled his eyes. "Sometimes I wonder why I bothered getting you out of prison," he muttered.

"Oh admit it," Neal said playfully. "If it weren't for me, you wouldn't have half your success rate."

Peter once again rolled his eyes but did not respond. Neal took this as a victory and smiled widely.

"So tell me about this case," Neal said as they got in line.

"Some guy claimed there were some things missing from his safe deposit box," Peter sighed. "When they heard, a lot of customers got nervous and checked their safe deposit boxes. Turns out almost everyone had items missing."

"No alarms were tripped, the security tapes showed nothing?" Neal guessed.

"That's why you're here," Peter confirmed with a smile.

"Yes, that's why I'm here. In the morning. On my day off," Neal sighed.

"You don't get official days off," Peter reminded him. "You wouldn't in prison, so you don't out here."

"Yeah, but you and I agreed that I wouldn't be coming in today," Neal complained.

"That was before you stole my car," Peter countered.

"Borrowed!" Neal protested.

"You didn't ask!" Peter said, frustrated.

"I gave it back, though, didn't I? Full tank of gas and everything!" Neal reminded him.

"Still called stealing," Peter muttered.

"Still called friendship," Neal muttered in reply.

"What were you doing with it, anyway?" Peter asked, curious.

Just as Neal was about to reply, a round of gunshots silenced them, and they instinctively ducked as several others in the bank screamed. Looking to the source of the noise, they saw three men in ski masks holding fully automatic machine guns, plus one more securing the front doors with locks and chains.

"Good morning, everyone," said the one in the middle, who had fired the initial shots into the ceiling. "Everybody just stay calm, and nobody will get hurt, are we clear?" he didn't wait for a response, "Good. Now everybody take out their cell phones and put them on the ground."

Everyone in the room obeyed without hesitation. Looking at his friend and partner, Neal could see Peter was thinking about going for his own gun.

"Peter," he warned in a loud whisper. When Peter met his eyes, Neal shook his head vigorously, warning him to back off. "You're going to get yourself killed!"

As if reading their minds, one of the men, who had gone around scooping up the cell phones, pressed his gun into Peter's back.

"I'll take that," he growled in his ear, taking Peter's gun from its holster.

Neal and Peter exchanged glances. This was going to be a long day...

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><p>Peter and Neal, along with the rest of the people in the bank – moms with children, impatient businessmen, security guards, tellers, and of course just the average New Yorkers – were ushered into an office in the back of the bank. Looking around, Neal counted twenty-seven people total, including children and, of course, him and Peter. A pair of four-year-olds, a boy and a girl, who looked enough alike to be twins, were crying across from them. Their mother tried to comfort them, but it was having no effect. When the robbers closed the door, locking them inside, Neal turned to Peter.<p>

"Please tell me you have some kind of plan," he said in a loud whisper, taking note of the shadow outside the frosted glass window built into the door, presumably belonging to one of the robbers on guard duty.

"Yeah, Neal, I knew this was going to happen today, so of course I came up with a plan last night of what we should do," Peter said sarcastically.

Neal let out an exasperated sigh, "Well you better figure it out soon!" he hissed. Even though he tried to remain calm and act like he wasn't nervous, Peter could still see the fear in his friend and partner's eyes.

Peter sighed. "Honestly, Neal, I'm not sure there's much I can do," he said regretfully. "We might just have to wait it out."

Neal groaned, "See, this is why I should not have come in today. It figures my day off would turn into a damn hostage situation."

"Well, you wouldn't have had to come in today if you hadn't stolen my car," Peter reminded him.

"Borrowed," Neal muttered stubbornly. "If I hadn't borrowed your car and I had stayed home today, would you have gone here alone?" he asked after a moment.

"Probably," Peter acknowledged. "Why?"

"Then it's a good thing I'm here," Neal sighed. "Well, good for you, bad for me."

"Why good for me, bad for you?" Peter asked.

"Well, good for you because I'm Neal Caffrey, master thief, and I might lend some help in this situation," Neal explained. "Bad for me because, well, I'm Neal Caffrey, master thief, and I have a feeling this is going to come back to haunt me. I mean, some people at the FBI really hate my guts. Do you really think they're going to believe I was here by coincidence? No. They're going to try and blame me for this."

"If they do, I'll kick their asses," Peter muttered. It really annoyed him when people judged Neal for who he was, not who he had become.

"Aww, that's sweet, Peter," Neal teased. Peter chuckled.

At that moment, the door opened, and one of the men leaned in, his finger on the trigger of his gun. A few people let out terrified whimpers, and Peter and Neal stiffened. To their surprise, the man's eyes fell on them.

"You two," he grunted, his voice gravelly. "Come with me. Now!"

Peter and Neal exchanged glances, then got to their feet and allowed themselves to be escorted out of the room. There were two more men out there waiting for them.

"You stay here," one of them said to Peter. He had brown eyes, the only distinguishable feature through the ski mask.

"No," Peter refused. He didn't want to leave Neal alone with these people.

In response, the man who called them out, whose eyes were green, he noticed, stepped forward and struck Peter across the face with the butt of his gun.

"Peter!" Neal exclaimed in concern, steadying his friend when he stumbled.

"I'm ok," Peter whispered after a moment, straightening up, wincing at the sting in his face.

"Just listen to them," Neal whispered back. "I'll be fine."

"You don't know that," Peter hissed.

But they really didn't have a choice, as they soon discovered. The man with the brown eyes grabbed Neal by the arm and yanked him away from Peter's side. When Peter tried to go after him, the man with the green eyes, as well as the remaining man, who had blue eyes, shoved him back against the wall and pinned him there. Peter struggled against their grip as Neal was dragged down the hall, but it was no use. As Neal and his captor turned a corner, Peter gave up his struggle. When he did, the two men holding him pulled him away from the wall and shoved him into a supply closet across the hall. Peter listened as they turned the lock, sealing Peter inside, in complete and total darkness...

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><p>Thirty minutes later, Peter jumped when someone slid a cell phone and a note under the door of the supply closet. Hesitant and confused, Peter waited until he heard them walk away before picking up both items. He recognized the cell phone as his own, and used the light from the screen to read the note. It was folded in half, and written on the front in block letters were the words:<p>

_LET'S PLAY A GAME..._

Peter hesitantly opened the note and found a picture of Neal, tied up and gagged, unconscious in the trunk of a car. The sight of it made his stomach lurch. He took a moment to gather himself before he turned his attention to the cell phone in his hand, quickly calling Jones.

"Jones," he said breathlessly when his friend and colleague answered. "You need to get a team down to the bank. Now."


	2. The Game

_**Thanks to everyone who reviewed and added this story to their Story Alerts. Judging by the OVERWHELMING response, I have a feeling you guys want me to continue with this story. To those of you urging me to continue, be happy, because I think I'm going to be doing just that. Thanks again! Don't forget to review!**_

_**PS: Sorry this one's so short. It's Homecoming Weekend. Homecoming football game tonight! Go Cougars!**_

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><p>Neal slowly returned to consciousness, his senses returning to him in small intervals. Drowsily, he groaned and shifted. It was then that he noticed several things. The first was the bandana knotted around his head, creating a tight gag. Soon after, he realized that his hands were tied behind him, around a post, with rope, the knots so intricate that he knew he had no hope of getting free of them, even if he had been fully awake. The same proved true about his ankles. Slowly, he opened his eyes and looked around. The room he sat in was small, dark, and dank, made of cold concrete, like a cellar.<p>

He wasn't alone.

Sitting at a table a good five feet from him, looking down at him with a cold smile, was a man he didn't recognize. He looked about Peter's height, maybe a little taller, with short, dark hair. Neal couldn't tell what color it was, or any facial features, because it was too dark in the room to see much of anything. The only light was coming from the several computers arranged on the table.

"Good, you're awake," the man said, standing up. In his hand was a small digital camera. "Smile," he grinned, snapping a picture. Neal flinched away from the sudden flash of light.

"I'm sure you're confused as to why you're here," the man continued, sitting back down, taking the camera's memory card out of the camera and inserting it into the laptop in front of him at the table. "So I'll explain. My name is Daniel Hansen. You are Neal Caffrey. And we are going to play a little game with your friend, Agent Burke. Well, more like I'm going to play a game with Peter. You're more like the prize." He sighed. Neal watched as he worked on his computer.

"Anyway," Hansen continued. "It's one of my favorite games, followed by Scrabble in a close second. The way it works, basically, is as long as your friend keeps getting my riddles right, you keep breathing. Now, if he gets one wrong, that doesn't mean you automatically die. It just means I get to have a little fun with you. I've played this game lots of times, and I have never lost, but I've never tried it with a couple of FBI agents. You guys are supposed to be really clever, right? Well, I guess we'll see," Hansen turned and grinned at him. "Let's get started, shall we?" His eyes were alight with happiness and anticipation. He drew a breath, "Ooh, I am so excited! I can't wait to see how long your friend can go before he misses one! The record is fifteen." His gaze became thoughtful. "I'm also curious to see how long you'll last. The longest anyone has gone is thirty missed riddles," his tone became wistful, "Ah, Lissa Freeman. Seventeen. She was my youngest. So beautiful, so strong, so determined to live..." He sighed happily. "Unfortunately, her brother, Lt. Steven Freeman, was not the sharpest tool in the shed. While it took her many riddles before she finally let go, but it didn't take a long time. He only got about five riddles right," he said in disgust.

Neal looked at him in horror, his heart racing. He struggled violently against his restraints, desperate to get free, even as the skin on his wrists was chafed away.

Hansen laughed. "You're not going to get out of those knots, Mr. Caffrey," he said with an amused smile. "I've been working on them. I'm not even sure I could undo them for you."

Neal stopped struggling, panting, his bright blue eyes alight with fear. Hansen seemed to find this amusing.

"Good," he said evenly. "It's better to conserve your energy. It doesn't matter how good your friend is. He's going to mess up eventually, and when he does, you're really, really going to need your strength for what I have planned for you."

His words made Neal's blood run cold. He hardly dared to breathe. He had never been this scared in his life. He just hoped and prayed Peter was smart enough to keep getting this guy's riddles right until the FBI could find him and bring him home. Then he prayed they _could_ find him and bring him home before this guy got to test how long he could hold out...

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><p>Peter sat in his office, his eyes unfocussed, trying to find some kind of explanation for what had happened. So far, he had nothing, and that killed him. His friend was God-knew-where, enduring God-knew-what kind of treatment, and he could do nothing to stop it. Neal was a pain in the ass, but he was his friend, and he had to find him before it was too late.<p>

It would have helped if he knew what the people who took him wanted. There was no money missing from the bank, so robbery wasn't a motive, and the note was pretty cryptic. They had no idea where to go from there.

Just then, his computer beeped, indicating he had a new email. The sound jolted Peter from his thoughts, and with a sigh, he pulled up the new message.

When he did, his heart just about stopped.

Attached to the message was a picture of Neal. His eyes were out of focus, drowsy, fearful, and dazed, but, apart from the bruise on the side of his face, he appeared unhurt and, more importantly, alive. He was in a concrete room that looked damp and dark, possibly a basement or cellar. His hands were tied behind him with rope, as were his ankles, and a bandana in his mouth functioned as a gag.

His pulse racing, Peter read the message that accompanied the picture.

_It's time to play a game. Accept my invitation and your friend keeps breathing. If not, then game over. Send me your response within the next five minutes, or it will be an automatic game over._

Peter didn't waste any time. He quickly got up and called Hughes, Diana, and Jones into his office. They quickly read the message.

"Accept it," Hughes said simply. "We'll figure out what to do from there."

Peter nodded in agreement and, with just a minute to spare, sent a reply. The group waited impatiently, all four hearts racing, for the response. They didn't have long to wait. It only took a minute or two for them to get a response.

_This is how the game works: I give you a riddle. If you get it right, nothing happens to your friend. If you get it wrong, I get to have a little fun with your friend Neal. Let's begin. We'll start out easy._

_There is a hidden treasure in one of the three rooms titled 'LION', 'BEER', and 'HORSE' and three keys numbered as 15, 17, and 19. A suggestion quote says "A 180 degree turn helps you earn". Which is the correct key and door combination?_

Peter paused, thinking over the riddle carefully. Then a thought occurred to him and he wrote down the names of all the rooms on a pad of paper and turned it upside down. "It's 'LION' and seventeen," Peter told them.

"What?" Diana asked in confusion.

"Lion rotated 180 degrees is 'NO. 17'," Peter explained.

"Are you sure, Peter?" Hughes asked hesitantly. They couldn't afford to make mistakes.

Peter hesitated, then nodded. "Yeah," he said finally.

After a moment, Hughes nodded as well. "Send it," he commanded.

Peter quickly typed his response and sent it in. Minutes later, he got a response.

_Very good, Peter. I have a feeling this is going to be a fun game, don't you?_


	3. Lillie and Gabe

_**Please don't forget to review!**_

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><p>Neal jolted awake, breathing heavily, terror causing his heart to race. He hadn't even remembered falling asleep. It took his sluggish brain a little while to process what he was seeing, but eventually, he realized that someone had woken him up. He was staring into the face of a young girl. She was about fifteen, maybe sixteen years old, with long dark blonde hair and hazel eyes. She smiled compassionately at him and reached toward him. Even though he wasn't really terrified of her, this whole experience made him wary of everyone, and he shied away from her. She smiled encouragingly, and before Neal knew it, she had untied the gag from his mouth.<p>

"Hi," she said softly, her voice kind. "My name's Lillie. I'm not going to hurt you," she assured him. Neal watched as she swung around the post and felt her tugging at the knots restraining his wrists. Within minutes he was free. Neal brought his arms around in front of him, rubbing his wrists, stretching his sore shoulder muscles, as Lillie swung back around to face him. She picked up a glass from the ground beside her and offered it to him. "Thirsty?" she asked sweetly. Neal again said nothing. He was dying of thirst, but he didn't know what was going on or who he could trust. She laughed slightly. "Go on, it won't bite, I promise."

Hesitantly, Neal reached out and took the water from her outstretched hand and tentatively took a sip. The water was cold and satisfying, refreshing to his tired mind. He drank it greedily. All too soon, it was gone. Neal glanced at the girl, Lillie, and discovered she was watching him. After a moment, he handed the glass back to her. She took it and smiled.

Just then, a door opened above, illuminating a staircase and giving Neal somewhat of an idea of where he was. As he thought, it was a small cellar. Looking around, his stomach lurched, and he thought he was going to lose the water he just drank. There were bloodstains on the floor. Lots of them.

Neal forced himself to tear his eyes away from the floor and fix his eyes on the staircase as someone jogged halfway down them. It was a boy, a little older than the girl, but not by much, with short medium brown hair and the same hazel eyes as the girl.

"Lillie," he said, glancing at Neal with a mixture of pity, sadness, regret, and fear, before looking back at the girl. "Come on! We're going to miss the bus!"

"Coming, Gabe," she sighed. She took Neal's hands and swung back around to the back of the pole, retying them with the same intricate knots she had undone, just as tightly as they had been before. Then she picked up the bandana and tied it back around Neal's head, gagging him once more.

"Goodbye," she whispered. "Good luck." Then she stood up and jogged back to the stairs as she and the boy went back up to the surface, closing the door behind them and sealing Neal inside in almost total darkness.

More than a little confused, Neal sat back against the pole. He didn't have much time to think about what just happened and what it meant before he started to feel very dizzy. Just before he fell back asleep, he just had enough time to think, _there must have been something in the water..._

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><p>Neal woke up again after God-knew-how-long, his head aching, still drowsy and out of it. Looking around, he found Hansen sitting at the table, looking at his computer screen. It took him about a minute to notice he was awake.<p>

"Oh, good, you're up," he smiled, glancing back at the computer screen. "Your friend is having a little trouble with this riddle. I think this might be his first loss."

Knowing what that meant, and recalling the blood stains on the floor, Neal's eyes widened, and his heart rate kicked into a dangerously high gear. He didn't know what Hansen had in mind for Peter's first loss, but he did not want to find out. Again, he began to struggle against the ropes that bound him.

Hansen sighed. "Now, what did I tell you about struggling, Neal?" He asked wearily, his voice calm and even, as if they were talking about something like the weather or a sports game. "You're not getting out of those ropes. You're going to need your strength if Peter doesn't respond in the next," he glanced at his watch, "thirty seconds."

Neal's eyes widened in horror, and he prayed Peter would pull through for him. He didn't want to die like this. Even though he knew the first one wouldn't kill him, he also, unlike Hansen, didn't want to find out how long he would last.

"Five, four, three, two, one, zero," Hansen grinned. Just to be sure, he refreshed his email. "And still no response from Peter. You know what that means?" he smiled, standing up, picking up a tripod with a camera mounted on it that was leaning against the table, and set it up in front of the young FBI consultant. He turned the camera on and adjusted the angle so he could better see Neal on the screen, and then began recording. Neal's eyes were wide and full of fear, like a deer in the headlights, as Hansen walked over to the wall, vanishing into the shadows, and then came back into the light of the computer screens, holding a baseball bat.

Instinctively, Neal struggled against the ropes again, desperately trying to get free. Hansen simply smiled, got into position, and swung the bat downward, making contact with Neal's ribcage with a sickening sound, a cross between a _thwack_, a _thump_, and a _crack!_

The impact jarred him severely, and for a moment, knocked the wind out of him. By the time he had recovered, Hansen had come back with another blow. This one glanced off his chin and made contact with his shoulder. The conman cried out, the sound muffled by the gag. This went on for five minutes straight. Neal's ribs received the brunt of the attack, with his shoulder being a prime target as well. By the time it was over, he was coughing up blood, but meeting only the gag. He could taste the awful tinny taste of his own blood, his breathing shallow and weak as he let his head fall back against the post he was tied to. Just breathing was painful. He didn't know how much of this he could take.

Hansen merely smiled at his pain and walked over to the camera, turning it off and taking it over to the computer...

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><p>Peter was five riddles into the game. None of them had been terribly hard, and he had gotten them relatively easily before Neal's captor said they were done for the day. Now he was struggling to figure out the latest riddle. He had received it early this morning when he came into the office. Everyone else he had asked was stumped too. And now he was under pressure, because he had just received an email saying that if he didn't answer in the next twenty minutes, he would lose the riddle, and he didn't want to think about what that meant for Neal. The riddle was this:<p>

_A man walks into a bar and asks for a glass of water. The bartender pulls out a shotgun and points it at him. The man says thank you, and leaves. Why?_

Peter had no idea how to answer this one. Nervously, he glanced at the clock in the lower right corner of his computer screen. Ten minutes left. Peter let out a growl of frustration. Why couldn't he figure this out? His friend was depending on him. He had to figure this out. But for the life of him, he couldn't. Before he knew it, his time was up, but it was a while before he received an email.

His hand shaking, Peter guided the mouse over to the new email, and clicked.

_I'm sorry, the correct answer was: He had the hiccups._

That was all the message said, and attached to the email was a video file. Hesitantly, he opened it. He instantly wished he hadn't.

Peter wanted nothing more than to look away from the terrible pain he could see his friend experiencing, but he couldn't tear his eyes away. It killed him so see Neal's pain- and fear-filled eyes, to hear his muffled screams, and to see the white gag in his mouth turn red with his own blood, but it was like he was paralyzed. He couldn't look away, no matter how hard he tried. When it was over, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding, and tried to calm his shaking hands. Not two seconds after he closed the video file, the next email arrived with the next riddle. With a tense, weary sigh, he clicked it open.

_There are 5 houses in 5 different colors  
>In each house lives a person with a different nationality<br>These 5 owners drink a certain type of beverage, smoke a certain brand of cigar, and keep a certain pet  
>No owners have the same pet, smoke the same brand of cigar or drink the same drink.<br>Here's the question: Who owns the fish?  
>The Brit lives in a red house<br>The Swede keeps dogs as pets  
>The Dane drinks tea<br>The green house is on the left of the white house  
>The green house owner drinks coffee<br>The person who smokes Pall Mall rears birds  
>The owner of the yellow house smokes Dunhill<br>The man living in the house right in the middle drinks milk  
>The Norwegian lives in the first house<br>The man who smokes Blend lives next door to the one who keeps cats.  
>The man who keeps horses lives next door to the man who smokes Dunhill<br>The owner who smokes Blue Master drinks beer  
>The German smokes Prince<br>The Norwegian lives next to the blue house  
>The man who smokes Blend has a neighbor who drinks water<br>With these 15 clues the problem is solvable._

Peter had absolutely no idea. This was going to a long game.

He just hoped Neal would be able to survive it.

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><p>"You're friend is starting to fall apart," Hansen said. "He's lost two in a row so far. Oh well, I guess that just means I'll get to have some more fun."<p>

Hansen stood up again, and made his way over to the young conman, what looked like a stun gun in his hand. But this one seemed to be modified, because instead of barbs, it had electrodes on it. There were four of them. Neal, horrified, guessing what Hansen planned to do to him, struggled violently to get free. Hansen, annoyed and impatient, punched him in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him.

As Neal struggled to gain control of his breathing, Hansen attached two of the electrodes to his temples, then undid a few buttons of his shirt, revealing the severe bruising that had already begun to make an appearance on his skin, and attached the remaining two to his chest. Then he stood up and made his way over to the camera, turning it on.

The electrical current that pulsed through Neal's body was excruciating. He screamed, his whole body seizing up, though the sound was muffled through the gag. When it was over, he slumped over, his muscles aching, feeling completely and utterly weak, trying to take deep breaths but being unable to due to the pain in his ribs.

But Hansen wasn't done with him yet. Before Neal had any time to recover, he squeezed the trigger on the stun gun once more. Neal cried out, a gut-wrenching cry, as every nerve in his body was set on fire. It was indescribable. He could barely breathe through it. Finally, it was over, and he let himself relax, his nerves still alight with pain as he struggled to draw a sufficient amount of oxygen into his lungs. He didn't think he could take much more of this.

And it still wasn't over. For the third time, Neal screamed his pain to the heavens, tears in his eyes, not in control of his own muscles. For a minute, Neal thought he was through. He couldn't possibly take any more of this. He was going to die. It was as simple as that.

But then it was over and he could breathe, however painfully, once more. Neal let his head fall back against the pole, his eyes closed, his face a look of unimaginable pain. He moaned in pain, amazed that he was still alive at all.

Hansen smiled in satisfaction, waited a couple of seconds, and stopped the recording, setting the stun gun down on the table. He took a seat in front of the computer and began his work, sending Peter the clip.

Neal could barely keep his eyes open. He felt so helpless, so hopeless, so full of pain that he wasn't sure if he would even survive the next few minutes. One thing he was sure of? There was absolutely no way he was getting out of there alive. Peter would never find him. He was going to die in this little concrete cellar. And Hansen would be the last thing he saw.


	4. A Thorn in My Side

_**Thanks to everyone who has been reading and commenting. Your responses REALLY mean a lot!**_

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><p>Neal woke up again sometime after Peter's second missed riddle. It hadn't taken him long to pass out from utter pain after Hanson sent the video clip. When he opened his eyes, he was surprised to find the light on. The two kids he had seen earlier, Lillie and Gabe, were there, talking in hushed tones.<p>

When Lillie saw him awake, she smiled sadly and apologetically. She made her way over to him and untied the gag. Once it was out of his mouth, Neal turned away from her and coughed up some blood.

"Hey," she said softly. "Are you ok?"

"I'm fantastic," Neal said sarcastically, his voice weak and full of pain. Lillie looked at him with sadness and pity, then swung around behind him and started working at the knots that bound his hands.

"Lillie!" Gabe's voice caused the younger girl to stop and look at him. "Don't. Dad said not to undo his hands anymore."

"Look at him, Gabe," Lillie protested. "He's not going to do anything. And if he does and Dad finds out, I'll take the blame this time."

"No, no, no," Gabe objected. "You're not taking the blame."

"Well, you're not going to take the blame again," Lillie said, standing up.

"If he finds out, yes I am," Gabe said firmly.

"Why? So he can do that to you again?" Lillie challenged.

Neal blinked and looked a little more closely at Gabe. It was then that he noticed the nasty bruise on his jaw. He was surprised he hadn't noticed before.

"No," Gabe denied. "So he won't do this to you."

"I don't need you to protect me," Lillie said firmly.

"Maybe not, but I promised Mom I would, so, like it or not, that's what I'm going to do," Gabe said simply.

"Dad's never going to know," Lillie tried to reassure her brother.

"You don't know that," Gabe sighed.

"Guys," Neal interrupted weakly. Both siblings turned to look at the injured conman. "I know you don't know me, and you probably couldn't care less about me, but...just, please...you've got to get me out of here."

"I'm sorry," Lillie said sincerely. "But_ that_ Dad _would_ notice."

"You could come with me," Neal offered. "I have a friend who could help you. He's with the FBI. You'd never have to see your dad again."

The kids seemed intrigued by the idea. But then, Lillie sighed, walking around the post and looking down at Neal. "We've tried running before. Dad just found us and brought us home."

"But Peter would protect you," Neal tried to convince them. "Nothing would happen to you. And you would never, ever have to see your dad again."

Lillie and Gabe exchanged glances. "I don't know..." Gabe said hesitantly.

"Please," Neal begged. "Please. I'm not going to be able hold out much longer. I have to get out of here."

"Cops have never done anything for us," Lillie sighed helplessly.

"Peter's not a cop," Neal smiled. "He's an FBI agent, and I promise you, I swear on my life, he will protect you."

"We can't just disappear," Lillie said nervously.

"Does one of you have a cell phone?" Neal asked.

"Yeah," the siblings said in unison.

"Well, then if you're not going to get me out of here, at least let me call Peter," Neal said breathlessly, still unable to take deep breaths.

Lillie and Gabe exchanged glances. Finally Gabe nodded. "What's his number?" he asked, drawing out his cell phone.

Neal, now weak with relief, rattled off the number. But just as Gabe was about to call, they heard the front door upstairs open and close.

The two siblings exchanged terrified glances. "Dad's home," Lillie said breathlessly.

Without another word, Gabe quickly retied Neal's gag and Lillie opened up a textbook and pretended to be doing homework. Once the gag was back in Neal's mouth, Gabe picked up a tennis ball from the table and started throwing it rhythmically against the wall, trying to act casual. A few seconds later, Hansen opened the door and jogged down the stairs.

"You two," he growled at Lillie and Gabe. "Get out."

Lillie and her brother looked at each other, then Lillie gathered up her books and headed upstairs with Gabe at her side.

"Sorry about them," Hansen said once they were gone. "They're a thorn in my side, but if I killed them, people would definitely notice."

Neal gave him a horrified look.

"Oh, don't look at me like that," Hansen rolled his eyes. "Just being honest."

He took a seat at the table and fired up his computer. "Now, let's get today's round started, shall we?"

* * *

><p>Peter was waiting for the riddle when it arrived. This one was easy. It read:<p>

_yyyy U R, yyyy U B, I C U R y y 4 ?  
>What word belongs in place of the question mark?<em>

Peter didn't waste time and quickly responded:

_**Me. Wise you are, wise you be, I see you are too wise for me.**_

Within minutes, he got another email:

_Very good, Peter. Moving on.  
><em>_How much dirt is in a hole that is 3 ft deep, and 6 inches in diameter?_

_**None. It's a hole.**_

_What two things are nothing and everything and are the absence of one another?_

_**Nothing and Everything**_

_A plane takes off it goes towards the east and crashes. Where would the survivors be buried?_

_**The survivors wouldn't be buried.**_

_I am in truth a yellow fork from tables in the sky by inadvertent fingers dropped the awful cutlery. Of mansions never quite disclosed and never quite concealed the apparatus of the dark to ignorance revealed. What am I?_

This one made Peter stop. The familiar heart-pounding, breath-catching feeling returned to him, the one that told him that if he didn't get this right, his friend could, quite possibly, die.

Jones poked his head into Peter's office at that moment. "Peter," he said, interrupting Peter's panicked thoughts. "Still no luck on tracing those emails. He's bouncing them across servers all over the world. I don't think we're going to be able to find their origin in time."

Peter sighed and nodded. Then he paused. "Hey, Jones, can you see if you can figure this one out?"

"Sure," Jones agreed, walking inside and around Peter's desk to look at the email. He read it over, paused for a moment, and nodded. "The answer's 'lightening'," he said simply.

"What?" Peter asked in disbelief. "How did you get that so fast?"

Jones shrugged. "I heard it before," he said with a smile.

"You're sure?" Peter asked hesitantly.

"I'm positive," Jones nodded. Peter nodded and sighed, then sent in Jones' response. The moments they had to wait before they got an answer were agonizing. Finally, they heard back from the psycho who had their friend in his clutches.

_Very good, Peter. I'm surprised. Keep it up and you might set a new record.  
><em>_That's all for the day. I'll talk to you in the morning._

Peter's jaw clenched, frustrated. He needed to find his friend. Fast. And, if he was lucky, he'd get to shoot the bastard who was hurting him when he did.

* * *

><p>"I think we should talk to him," Lillie said at last, breaking the silence that had fallen between her and her brother. They were in Lillie's room, with the door locked to hopefully keep their father back, if only for a little while.<p>

"Are you crazy?" Gabe said in shock. "If we talk to him, one of three things could happen: We could get arrested. We could get the crap kicked out of us when Dad finds out. We could end up in foster care where sharing a home with a crazy psycho killer as your father would seem like winning the damn lottery. Either way, we're screwed."

"Gabriel James Hansen, has anyone ever told you that you're a ray of sunshine on a cloudy day?" Lillie asked genuinely.

"No," Gabe rolled his eyes.

"Good, because they'd be lying," Lillie muttered.

"Ha, ha, you're hilarious," Gabe grumbled.

"Look, all I'm saying is..." Lillie sighed. "Is I can't take it anymore! Playing along with Dad's creepy game, helping him clean up when he's done, going to bed and pretending we can't hear them screaming...I can't do it anymore! I can't just stand by and let him keep hurting people!" Lillie had tears in her eyes as she spoke.

"I know, Lillie, I know," Gabe said sympathetically. "But think about it. Every time we run, what happens?"

"Dad finds us and takes us home," Lillie said with a shudder. She didn't have to say what happened when they got home. Gabe knew just as well as she did.

"And whenever we go to the cops, what happens?" Gabe asked, not trying to hurt her, just trying to get her to see how limited their options were.

"Dad fakes father of the year until they're gone, and when they go, it gets worse," Lillie muttered, shaking with fear at the memories.

Gabe sighed and paused. "Do you really think this guy can help us?" he asked finally.

"That guy downstairs sure thinks he can," Lillie offered.

"And how reliable is that?" Gabe asked skeptically.

Lillie paused, then shrugged. "I believe him," she said simply, wiping her eyes.

Gabe hesitated, searching his little sister's face. Finally, he nodded. "Ok," he agreed. "I'll talk to him, set up a meeting. We'll see if we can trust him or not. Ok?"

Lillie nodded, pulling her knees up to her chest. Gabe sighed and dialed the number the guy downstairs – Neal, he thought his father called him – had given him and called it, unsure of what he'd say if this Agent Burke answered.

He didn't have time to think about it, because he picked up almost immediately, "Hello?"

"Hi, uh," Gabe's heart was pounding as he stumbled over his words. "Is...Is this Special Agent Peter Burke?"

"Yes, who is this?" Peter asked skeptically.

"My, um...my name's Gabe," Gabe struggled to gain control of himself. "I...well, we, my sister and I...we need to talk to you about your friend, um...N-Neal," he was a little hesitant to say his name, unsure if it was right.

Apparently, it was. "What do you know about him?" Peter demanded.

"Not now," Gabe said firmly. "Can you meet us in ten minutes at Central Park, where the tables are around the fountain?"

It wasn't a very good description, but Peter seemed to know what he was talking about. "Yes," the agent said curtly, obviously not trusting the young man. "I'll see you there."

"Great," Gabe let out a sigh. "Bye." He hung up and shoved his phone into his pocket. Then he went to Lillie's closet and tossed her her coat. "Let's go, Lil."


	5. I'm On My Way

_**Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story. Your feedback REALLY does mean a lot! Thanks so much!**_

* * *

><p>Gabe and Lillie wound their way through the crowded streets the zigzagged their way throughout the park, making their way over to the fountain they had promised to meet Peter at. There were several people sitting at the tables, but only one stood out. He was tall, had dark brown hair, was wearing a suit, continuously glanced at his watch, was looking around impatiently, and had a demeanor that screamed cop. The siblings exchanged glances, then, wordlessly, walked over to the table and took a seat across from the man, shifting uncomfortably under the FBI man's gaze. For several moments, there was an incredibly heavy silence hanging between them.<p>

"So," Peter said finally, breaking the silence. "I'm going to assume you're Gabe," he said, looking at the young man in front of him. "And you must be his sister...?"

"Lillie," Lillie supplied.

"Right," Peter nodded. "So, Gabe and Lillie," he sighed. "Why am I here? What do you know about Neal?"

"It's..." Lillie began, taking a deep breath to compose herself. "We...we know where he is. Neal, I mean."

This got Peter's attention. He leaned forward. "Where?" he demanded.

The siblings fell silent, casting unsure glances at each other. When they looked at each other, Gabe unknowingly angled his head in such a way that Peter got his first look at the nasty, incredibly painful-looking bruise on his face. It was then that he understood.

"You don't have to be afraid of him," Peter said soothingly. "If you tell me where he is, I promise you, I'll make sure you're safe."

Lillie smiled slightly, a kind of sad smile. "He said you'd say that," she said softly.

"He's right," Peter said firmly.

"We've gone to the cops before," Gabe interrupted. "They didn't do anything to help us. They just made it worse. Nobody cared. Nobody tried to do anything. How can we trust you? How do we know you're not just saying this to get us to show you where your friend is and then abandon us, just like they did?"

"Because I keep my word," Peter said sincerely. "And I give you my word, Gabe, that if you help me, I won't let anything happen to either one of you."

The two siblings looked at each other, a silent conversation passing between them. They looked about to agree, but then Lillie's phone buzzed. She quickly whipped it out of her pocket, looking at the screen.

"It's Dad," she said softly. Peter detected the note of fear in her voice. "I'm sorry, but, uh, we have to go," she said as she and her brother stood up.

"Wait," Peter stopped them from vanishing into the crowd of people, and held out his card to Lillie. "Please, call me if you need anything, or if you change your mind."

Lillie nodded quickly, taking the card, and then the two siblings disappeared into the crowd...

* * *

><p>Neal looked up, still dazed and confused, when he heard the door open and three sets of footsteps pound down the stairs. After a moment, Hansen came into view, dragging Lillie and Gabe behind him by their arms.<p>

"Would you like to explain," Hansen growled, dragging them behind the post Neal was tied to. "this?" Neal guessed he was talking about the loose knot in his bindings.

"How did that get there?" Hansen asked the terrified teenagers. They didn't say anything. This just seemed to piss him off.

"I thought I told you not to untie him anymore," he said loudly and angrily, shoving them both back into the table with all his strength. Lillie screamed, catching herself on the edge. Gabe's back hit the sharp wooden corner, causing him to wince.

Hansen opened his mouth to say something, but stopped when something on the ground caught his eye. It was a small piece of white rectangular paper. When she saw it, Neal saw Lillie's eyes widen and her hand went to her pocket. When she found nothing there, her face got visibly paler. As Hansen took a step forward and picked up the card, Gabe edged his way in front of Lillie, positioning himself between her and Hansen.

"Special Agent Peter Burke, FBI..." Hansen whispered, reading the card. Neal could see the rage flaring up in Hansen's eyes as he turned to his children. "You talked to him?" he asked, his voice quiet even though it was burning with anger. Without waiting for a response, Hansen took a few swift steps forward, and punched Gabe across the face, making contact with the exact spot Neal had seen the bruise. Lillie screamed as Gabe stumbled away from her. When Gabe came back at him, Hansen shoved him away, causing him to fall and slide across the rough concrete floor. Neal could already see the blood on Gabe's arm and side.

Once Gabe was out of the way, Hansen turned his attention to Lillie. She was crying, shaking visibly. Hansen didn't seem to care. He gripped her upper arms, just below her shoulders, and shook her violently as he shouted in her face.

"What did you do? What did you tell him, huh? What did you say to him?" Hansen shouted, shaking his daughter like a rag doll as she sobbed, shaking with fear.

While Hansen shouted, Gabe started to get to his feet, wincing in pain, cuts and scrapes along his entire right arm and blood on his shirt, undoubtedly the result of even more scrapes on his ribs, but determination and anger in his eyes. He stood up and, without hesitating, ran at his father, forcibly shoving him back away from Lillie, prying his hands off of her arms. "Let go of her!" he shouted angrily, making Hansen stumble back.

While he was distracted, Gabe grabbed Lillie's wrist, a lot more gently than what Hansen had done, and pulled her around the table, pushing her towards the stairs. "Go, Lillie, go! Run!" he shouted urgently. Lillie did just that, sprinting up the stairs and out the door up top, leaving it open as she ran out of the house.

Gabe tried to follow her, but then Hansen recovered and grabbed him by the arm, throwing him into the rough concrete wall. Gabe grunted in pain as Hansen pinned him there. Neal shouted his protest, but his voice was weak and muffled by the gag, so neither Gabe nor Hansen paid him any attention.

Before Hansen could do anything, Gabe kicked out, making contact with his father's knee, causing it to give out. Now free, Gabe sprinted up the stairs and out of the house, following his sister's example.

Hansen started to follow him, but stopped, deciding against it. Hansen let out an anger-filled cry, stalking back over towards Neal. As he passed the injured conman, Hansen kicked Neal's shoulder with impressive strength. Neal cried out.

After a few moments, Hansen walked over to the computers and closed all the laptops, gathering them up and clearing off the table, disappearing up the stairs. He was gone for several minutes. When he returned, he had a knife in his hand. Neal stiffened, his eyes widening in fear, as Hansen walked around behind him and cut the rope binding Neal's hands. When his hands were free, Hansen walked back around and freed Neal's feet. Then he hauled the consultant to his feet, ignoring his cries of protest.

Hansen dragged him up the stairs and through the house, finally pulling him out the back door and into a car, shoving him onto the floor of the back seat.

"Stay down and keep quiet," Hansen growled. "Don't try anything stupid, or I'm going to have to end my game early."

With those words, he slammed the back door closed and climbed into the driver's seat, starting the car and taking off...

* * *

><p>"Shh, Lillie, it's going to be ok," Gabe said softly. He was sitting in a tree house in the small patch of forest near their house. He and Lillie had found it a few years ago, completely abandoned but still and good shape, and made it their meeting place for when they ran from their dad. Lillie already had hand-shaped bruises on her arms. Gabe had discovered he had scrapes all along his arm and along the right side of his rib cage and part of his back. Lillie was sobbing into Gabe's left shoulder while he held her close, rubbing her arm comfortingly.<p>

"We have to call Peter," Lillie said between sobs.

"I know," Gabe sighed. "I know..."

When Lillie's sobbing had calmed down, Gabe gently peeled himself away from her, standing up and walking away from her, calling Peter again.

"Agent Burke," Peter said when he answered.

"Were you serious when you said you'd help us?" Gabe asked, his voice steady.

"Gabe?" Peter asked in surprise. He didn't wait for an answer. "Yeah, I was. Why? What's going on? Are you ok?"

"No," he said, his voice wavering slightly. "We're not."

"Where are you?" Peter asked, sounding genuinely concerned.

"We're, uh..." Gabe took a deep breath, steadying his voice. "We're going to be at the corner of East 85th Street and Park Avenue in about ten minutes."

"I'm on my way."


	6. Liar

**_Thanks again to everyone who has sent me feedback. Don't forget to review, guys!_**

* * *

><p>Gabe and Lillie stood on the street corner, both wearing hoodies that they kept in the tree house, their hoods up, hiding their injuries. They didn't have to wait long before Peter pulled up to the curb. The FBI man rolled down the window and called to the siblings to get in the car. They hesitated for only a moment before Gabe took a few steps forward and opened the back door for the still-shaking Lillie before climbing in after her and closing the door. Once they were safely inside, Peter pulled out into New York traffic.<p>

They drove in silence the whole way back to the FBI. When Peter pulled into the parking lot, both siblings visibly stiffened. Peter killed the engine and looked at them in the rearview mirror.

"Ready to go?" he asked softly.

Gabe and Lillie exchanged glances, then nodded slightly, opening their doors and stepping out of the car. Peter quickly followed and escorted them into the building. When they stepped off the elevator and walked through the glass doors of the bullpen, the two teens tried to ignore the curious glances from several agents. The threesome made their way up to Peter's office. Once they were inside with the door closed, and they had taken their seats, Lillie and Gabe on one side, Peter on the other, the young teens took their hoods off.

They didn't look too good.

Lillie was as pale as the lilies of the valley she was named after, shaking with fear, tears in her eyes. Gabe wasn't too much better, but his face was characterized by the ugly black-and-blue bruise that no longer just settled on his jaw line, taking up half of his left cheek.

Peter was taken aback, shock in his eyes. "What happened?" he asked finally.

"I just wanted to loosen his hands," Lillie said softly. "They were turning blue...but Dad saw the loose knots...and when he started shouting at us...he shoved us back and your card fell out of my pocket...he saw it, and..." Lillie trailed off, trying to compose herself.

"Dad got pissed," Gabe finished with a sigh, shifting in his chair and wincing.

Peter's eyes narrowed at them. "Take off your sweatshirts," he said softly, almost not wanting to see what the baggy sleeves were hiding.

The siblings hesitated, casting each other worried glances. Then, with a sigh, they both pulled the sweatshirts over their heads, taking them off.

Peter was right, he didn't want to see what the sleeves were hiding.

Lillie's bruises were in the perfect shapes of hands. Gabe's right arm, from the shoulder down to the wrist, was scraped raw, shining with blood, the red fuzzies from the sweatshirt stuck to the injuries. There was blood on his shirt, and a hand-shaped bruise on his right forearm, the thumb covering the scrapes.

"Oh my God," Peter said breathlessly.

"Could have been worse," Lillie said, her voice just above a whisper, hugging herself and not meeting his gaze.

"Has been worse," Gabe corrected. "This is honestly not much more than a typical weekend...it's just a little more visible this time..."

"Where can we find him?" Peter asked, concerned.

"At our house, maybe," Gabe sighed. "But I doubt he's still there. He didn't follow us, so he probably realized that he had to leave." Seeing Peter's fearful expression, Gabe smiled encouragingly. "Neal's still alive," he said firmly. "My dad...well, he's an abusive, psychotic bastard, to be honest. But he is nothing if not a predictable psychopath. He wouldn't give up his sick game just because of us."

Peter wasn't sure if that made him feel better. He didn't like the thought of Neal being stuck with that bastard anymore than he liked the thought of these kids spending their entire lives with him.

Before anyone could say anything else, Elizabeth poked her head into Peter's office. "Hey, Peter, can I talk to..." she trailed off when she saw Lillie and Gabe and their injuries, a horrified look on her face.

"El," Peter said, standing up and walking over to her, guiding her out of his office and into the hall.

"What happened to them? Who are they?" Elizabeth asked softly.

"They're the children of the man who took Neal," Peter told her, keeping his voice low.

"Oh my God, what happened to them?" Elizabeth asked, horrified.

"They got caught trying to help Neal, and then they got caught talking to me," Peter said with a sigh, the guilt he felt evident in his tone.

"Wait, you're not giving them over to child services, are you?" she questioned.

"I don't really have a choice, El," Peter let out a troubled breath as he spoke.

"Oh, don't be silly, Peter," Elizabeth smiled. "They're staying with us."

Peter was stunned into silence. He was about to refuse, but one look at the two teens in his office as Gabe tried to comfort his sister, and the say-yes-or-you'll-be-sleeping-on-the-couch-for-the-rest-of-your-life glare Elizabeth had fixed him with, and he couldn't say no.

"I'll talk to Hughes," Peter conceded finally.

"Oh, Honey," Elizabeth smiled, giving him a kiss on the cheek. "That's why I love you."

* * *

><p>Gabe sat on the examination table, shivering in the cold of the room. When they had gotten everything straightened out at the FBI, like their temporary living arrangements, which Peter had managed to take care of for them, the FBI man had insisted on taking him to see a doctor. When they got there, the doctor had made him take his shirt off so he could get at the cuts on his back. He winced as the doctor started cleaning the massive wound on his arm. Peter stood against the wall, watching, pity in his eyes. With his shirt off, Peter could see the numerous ugly scars all over his body. A particularly bad one started on the lower left side of his abdomen and snaked up his body to just below his heart. It looked like a knife wound.<p>

"Could you please stop looking at me like that," Gabe said finally as the doctor finished cleaning up his arm and began bandaging it with a thick roll of gauze.

"Like what?" Peter asked, surprised.

"I don't need your pity," the teenager mumbled. Peter was quiet.

"Listen," Peter sighed, changing the subject. "You were right. Your dad wasn't at the house. Do you have any idea where he might have taken Neal?"

Gabe winced when the doctor moved on to the scrapes on his back. When the stinging from whatever the doctor had just slathered all over the painful, inflamed red patch on his back where several layers of skin had been stripped away, he smiled. "In case you haven't noticed, Agent Burke," he sighed, "my dad kind of hates my guts. He tried to drown me and Lillie when we were babies, and ever since then he's been doing his best to wipe us of the planet." Gabe paused as the doctor behind him taped a large rectangle of gauze over most of his back. "No, I take that back," he corrected. "Once we started school, he stopped trying to kill us. He said people would notice. So instead, we became punching bags and test subjects. Anything you've seen my dad do to your friend he's already done to me and then some. Now why do you think he would have told us where he was going?"

"Did you hear him say anything to anyone, look up directions to some place, anything?" Peter pressed

"I'm sorry, Agent Burke, I really am. I don't know who your friend is or what if anything he's done, but he doesn't deserve the treatment he's getting with my dad. Nobody does. I would help you if I could," Gabe told him helplessly.

"Alright," the doctor said, taking his gloves off. "You're all set."

"Great," Gabe sighed, picking up his bloody t-shirt and pulling it over his head, flinching at the movement.

Peter watched the doctor as he left the room. When the door closed behind him, he turned back to the young man in front of him, watching as he pulled his sweatshirt back on.

"Come on," he said at last, nodding towards the door. Gabe sighed, and the two of them left the examination room.

"Gabe?" Gabe turned when he heard someone say his name. Peter followed his gaze to another teenager, about Gabe's age, who was sitting in a waiting room chair. Peter saw Gabe smile and make his way over to him.

"Hey, Chris," he greeted him. "What are you doing here?"

"My sister fell out of a tree and probably broke her arm. Just waiting on my parents to show up. What about you?" the boy, Chris asked curiously.

"Oh, I wiped out on my skateboard," Gabe lied smoothly, pulling up the sleeve to show off the gauze that covered the nasty scrapes.

"Nice," Chris smiled. It was then that he noticed Peter. "Who's that?"

"My uncle, Peter," Gabe said convincingly. He rivaled Neal in his skill at lying.

"And we have to go," Peter interrupted.

"Alright, see you later, man," Chris smiled.

"Ok," Gabe agreed. "Tell Katie I said feel better," he said, starting back towards Peter.

"Will do," Chris promised. With that, Peter and Gabe left the hospital and started back for the Burke household, where Elizabeth and Lillie were waiting for them.

As they sat in silence, waiting for the New York traffic to get going again, Peter couldn't help but think about how easily and convincingly Gabe had lied to his friend back at the hospital. And then, even though he didn't want to, he had to wonder, what else was he lying about?

* * *

><p>After about thirty minutes of driving in complete and total silence, Neal had had enough. Using his left arm, since he couldn't move is right shoulder, he pulled the gag out of his mouth.<p>

"You're making a mistake, Hansen," he gasped, his mouth as dry as cotton.

"Shut up," Hansen growled, his knuckles turning white on the steering wheel.

"Peter's going to find you," Neal continued as if he never spoke. "You don't stand a chance."

Without a word, Hansen pulled over and put the car in park, stepping out and pulling open the rear door. He grabbed a handful of Neal's shirt and roughly pulled him upright, jamming the gun in his hand into the conman's bruised ribs. Neal whimpered, his whole body alight with pain. Hansen's eyes were full of rage, causing Neal's fearful heart to race.

"Now, let's get something straight here, Caffrey," he hissed. "I'm in charge here, and I could make life a lot worse for you. And if you do not shut up, that's exactly what I'm going to do."

Neal was shaking with fear, but he was looking behind Hansen now. They were on a dirt road in the forest. He had almost no chance of finding his way out of them once he got in, and Hansen would have the upper hand, but he knew he wouldn't get another chance like this. Summoning his strength and courage, he brought his legs back and kicked Hansen directly in the stomach, knocking the wind out of him and causing him to let go of his shirt and stumble back.

Neal didn't hesitate. He took off, disappearing into the trees on the other side of the road, limping, struggling to get enough air to carry out his task, his right arm pinned to his side. It was slow going, his probably-broken ribs not letting him take a deep breath, the uneven terrain causing him to trip and stumble. He could hear Hansen behind him, crashing through the fallen leaves and dying bushes, but he didn't dare look behind him. Desperation lent him strength and speed, and before long, he had put a good distance between himself and Hansen.

And then it was gone, just like that.

Neal's foot got caught on an exposed tree root, and he fell hard onto his right side. He let out an agonized cry, hearing the loud _snap_ of his collar bone. As he struggled to get to his feet and keep going, Hansen caught up to him. He put his foot on the conman's back, pressing his face into the muddy ground, pressing his gun into the back of Neal's neck. Neal hardly dared to breathe, taking in and letting out short, ragged gasps.

"Game over, Caffrey," he growled in his ear. "I win."


	7. Game Over

_**Whoo! Two in one day! That's a new record for me. Well, back on topic, thanks for all the feedback and please don't forget to review!**_

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><p><em><em>__Hansen grabbed the back of Neal's jacket and yanked him to his feet, ignoring the tortured cry that escaped Neal's lips, and pulled him back the way they had come, shoving him back into the car, then climbing back in and taking off down the dirt path. It didn't take long to reach their destination.

Hansen parked the car in the driveway of a small house. The white paint was peeling off the siding. The windows were boarded up. The front door hung crooked on its hinges. Hansen dragged Neal out of the back seat and into the house. Neal struggled to get free, but it was no use. He could hardly move without any pain. Even if he could get free, he wouldn't make it very far. He was amazed he made it as far as he did when he ran.

Neal focused on remaining on two feet as he was pulled down a flight of stairs, into yet another dark basement. When they reached the main floor, Hansen shoved the injured man forward, making him fall. Neal put his hands out to stop himself, and when he hit the ground instantly regretted it, the impact jarring his broken clavicle. While Neal whimpered in pain, Hansen grabbed his jacket and pulled it off, then grabbed some rope from one of the shelves in the small room and tied his hands in front of him, using the same intricate knots he had used back at his own house. Then he threw the other end of the long length of rope over a bar that resided just below the ceiling, seven feet above them. He took the end of the rope and walked over to the far wall. Then, grunting with effort, he pulled on the rope, yanking Neal's arms above his head and drawing him to his feet. The consultant screamed in pain, standing up. But then Hansen kept pulling, looking angry and determined. Before Neal knew it, he was hanging from the ceiling. If he pointed his toes, he could just barely touch the ground.

Hansen tied the rope to a hook that stuck out of the wall behind him, securing Neal his place in midair. Then he walked past the whimpering conman, making sure to shove him on his way past, causing the man even more pain, and walked up the stairs, disappearing from sight.

As Neal hung there, panting, trying to ignore the impossible pain in his ribs whenever he tried to take a breath and the overwhelming pain in his broken collar bone. He was pretty sure neither one of his arms were still in their sockets.

Neal was never more sure that he was going to die. In fact, at this point, in his current state, he wished Hansen would just kill him already...

* * *

><p>Gabe stared out the window, looking up at the dazzling lights from the skyscrapers just a few blocks away. The sun had long since set. The Burkes had already gone to bed, and Lillie was asleep on the couch. Peter had brought them home to grab some clothes, and he now wore a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweatpants.<p>

The young man was restless, and before long he stood up and began pacing. Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and put on his sweatshirt and tugged on his shoes. He had watched carefully when Elizabeth had entered the alarm code, and he quickly disarmed it, quietly sneaking out and starting down the sidewalk.

But what Gabe didn't know was that Peter, too, had been unable to sleep, and had been creeping down the stairs, intent on going for a walk, when he snuck out, and then decided to follow him.

Gabe made his way to a pay phone a couple blocks away, fishing around his pocket for the quarters necessary to make a call. Then he inserted the money and dialed a number he knew by heart, while all the while Peter watched from just inside an alley.

"Hello?" Gabe cringed when he heard the voice on the other end of the line out of habit.

"Dad, it's me," he said with a sigh.

"Well, hello, Gabe," Hansen's words were like poison, and Gabe shuddered. "How are things at the FBI?"

"Dad, I made a mistake," Gabe said breathlessly.

Hansen paused. "Go on," he said suspiciously.

"I shouldn't have gone to the FBI," Gabe sighed. "It was stupid. Where are you? I want to go home." He sounded sincere, like he really meant every word he said.

"Nice try, Gabe," Somehow, Hansen called his bluff. "Now cut the crap and tell me why you really called."

_Damn it, _Gabe thought. It wasn't often that he got caught in a lie.

"Where is he, Dad?" Gabe demanded at last.

"Somewhere you and your new friends won't find him," Hansen snapped. "He's going to die here. I'll make sure of that."

"Just let him go, Dad," Gabe sighed desperately. "It's not worth it."

"Yes, it is," Hansen said with a chuckle.

"Look, I know it's not in your nature to behave like a human being," Gabe growled, rage in his words. "So I'll try and phrase this in a way you'll understand. I am sick of letting you get away with hurting innocent people. So, you let him go, or–"

"Or what?" Hansen challenged. "What can you do? Nothing. You're just a pathetic excuse for a person."

"Funny, I was going to say the same thing about you, you bastard," Gabe muttered angrily.

"Big words for a kid who constantly gets his ass kicked and never delivers a decent blow in return," Hansen chuckled. "But really, what can you do? Whatever you think you can do to me, I can do worse to you, and Lillie. You think you're safe with the Burkes?"

"How did you...?" Gabe asked breathlessly, trying and failing to hide the fear in his voice.

"Oh please, it wasn't that hard to figure out," Hansen bragged. "That payphone you're calling from is only a couple blocks from their house. Plus, I know that's where Lillie is right now."

Gabe looked around frantically, thinking his father was somehow watching him, but he saw nothing. The street was deserted, as far as he could see. This just seemed to scare him more. His expression became distressed, and the hand holding the phone shook.

"So," Hansen continued, "why don't you be a good little boy for once, and give Peter a message for me: Game Over."

Before Gabe could respond, the line went dead. His hand shaking, Gabe set the phone back on the cradle, but didn't let go of it, his face turning pale. Then, his frustration got the best of him and he slammed the phone down on the cradle three times before letting go and backing off, pacing back and forth, tangling his hands in his hair and keeping them there for a little while before letting them drop. He was racking his brain, trying to think of where his dad would take Neal. Frustrated and angry, he lashed out, kicking the side of the building behind him with all his strength. Then, the reality of what just happened came crashing down on him, and he crumbled, sinking down to the ground, his back against the wall of the building he just kicked. He held his head in his shaking hands and fought back tears like he always did.

Peter watched all of this silently, but chose this moment to make his appearance. He emerged from his hiding place and made his way over to the teenager. He stopped beside him, looking down at his shaking form. Slowly, not wanting to face who he knew he would see, Gabe looked up.

"Hey," Peter sighed. "Is there something you want to tell me?"

Gabe let out a sigh of defeat, letting his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes. He was caught. This was getting to be a habit of his. After a moment, he stood up, slowly looking up to meet Peter's gaze.

"Come on," Peter said indifferently, keeping his tone neutral. "Let's take a walk."

Seeing no other choice, Gabe nodded, and the two of them started walking. For a minute or two, neither one of them said anything.

"So, what were you doing up?" Peter asked finally.

"Couldn't sleep," Gabe shrugged, fidgeting uncomfortably under the FBI man's scrutinizing gaze. "You?"

"Same," Peter nodded. They were silent again. "Who were you calling?" he asked at last, already guessing the answer.

Gabe hesitated. He would like nothing more than to just run, like he and Lillie had done for most of their lives, but he had a feeling that wouldn't end well for him.

Peter sighed. "I'm not going to get mad if you say you were talking to your dad," he said finally.

"I was just trying to get him to tell me where he took Neal," Gabe said defensively.

"I'm not mad, Gabe," Peter said gently. After a moment, Gabe realized he was serious.

"He didn't tell me," Gabe said at last, not meeting his gaze.

"But he told you something, didn't he?" Peter asked, again, not sure if he wanted to know the answer.

Gabe nodded, taking a moment to compose himself.

"What did he tell you?" Peter asked hesitantly.

Gabe was quiet for a while, then sighed helplessly. "Game over," he told the FBI man, his voice just above a whisper.

Peter's heart seemed to stop. Without a word, he escorted the young teenager back to the house and instructed him to go to sleep. Then he made his way upstairs and crawled back into bed, willing the sleep to come, even though he knew it never would...


	8. Happy Anniversary

_**There were lots of questions about last chapeter's ending. I know, it was pretty weak and unrealistic, and I apologize. It was after midnight when I wrote it, and ever since my sister went to college, her cat hasn't been leaving me alone and kept walking over the keyboard and laying down on my hands when I was trying to type, so I was pretty exhausted, and annoyed. I corrected most of those questions in this one, and I hope you guys can forgive my momentary lapse in judgement. I sincerely apologize. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!**_

* * *

><p>Hansen took a step back to admire his work, closing the bloody pocket knife in his hand. There were several gashes in Neal's skin, some long, some short, all over his abdomen, back, and arms. The conman was still breathing, of course, but the copious amounts of blood seeping out of him would soon take care of that, he was sure.<p>

"Bye, Neal," Hansen smiled. Then he simply left the room, heading up the stairs and closing the basement door behind him, sealing Neal in total darkness.

Neal struggled to catch his breath, his breathing rapid and shallow. He could feel the life flowing out of him with his blood, and he soon gave up trying to keep his eyes open.

Just before he passed out, he thought, _I take it back. **Now** I have never been more sure I was going to die..._

* * *

><p>Two hours earlier...<p>

* * *

><p>Gabe woke up as light streamed in through the windows, waking him up and causing him to shift in the chair he had settled in. He insisted that Lillie take the couch. Looking around, he saw Lillie sitting up on the couch, looking down at a photo in her lap with a small longing smile.<p>

"Hey," Gabe said drowsily. Lillie looked up and smiled at him. "What're you looking at?"

"A picture of us and Mom," Lillie smiled. "On a vacation to the lake house."

"Lake house?" Gabe raised an eyebrow. "What lake house? And since when did Dad take us on vacations?"

"Don't you remember?" Lillie asked. "Mom's parents left her a lake house and before she died Dad took us out there once or twice. He took us fishing at the lake."

It sure as hell didn't sound like the dad he knew, but Gabe still had the vaguest of memories of the lake house in question. He stood up and made his way over to her, sitting down beside her. "Let me see that," he said, taking the photo from her.

"Peter?" he called, standing up. Just then, El emerged from the kitchen.

"Elizabeth," Gabe said urgently. "Where's Peter?"

"He went back into the office just after you fell asleep last night. He didn't want to worry you," Elizabeth told him. "Why?"

Gabe had already retrieved his cell phone and Peter's card, dialing his number. He picked up on the third ring.

"Agent Burke," he said with a weary sigh.

"Peter, it's Gabe," Gabe said breathlessly.

"Gabe?" Peter sounded surprised. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing, but...I think I might know where Dad took Neal," Gabe sighed.

"Where?" Peter asked, now completely alert.

"There's a cabin that my grandparents left to my mom," Gabe explained. "Before she died, Dad took us there a couple of times. I don't remember the address, but–"

"Uh, Gabe," Lillie interrupted.

"What?" Gabe asked, looking at her. Lillie reached over and took the photo from his hand and turned it over. Written on the back was the address of the lake house.

"Oh," Gabe laughed. "Ok, Peter, ready for the address?"

Peter grabbed a pen and quickly scribbled down the address Gabe gave him, thanked the teenager, and hung up, walking back out of his office and making a b-line for the conference room.

"Hughes," he said quickly. "We found Neal."

That was all Hughes, and the other FBI agents in the room, had to hear. Within minutes, they were in route to the remote cabin with a SWAT team and ambulance on the way.

It took longer than Peter would have liked, but two hours later, they had arrived, and everyone was in position.

The next several minutes seemed to move in slow motion. Peter, Diana, and Jones split up, Jones going to the second floor, Diana staying on the main floor, and Peter, flanked by several SWAT agents, went to the basement. When he saw his partner hanging there, soaked with blood, he froze.

"Neal!" he cried urgently, holstering his gun and making his way over to him. His hand shaking, he checked his friend's pulse. When he did, Neal's eyes fluttered open and he groaned.

"Neal," Peter let out a sigh of relief as the paramedics came into view, wheeling a gurney so they could cut Neal down without dropping him.

"Peter..." Neal said weakly as the paramedics got the gurney into position and one of the SWAT agents handed them a knife from his belt. "I borrowed your car...to go pick up...and anniversary present...for Elizabeth...because I knew...you were going to...forget..." he told him, grunting in pain as they cut him down and he fell onto the gurney. Half a minute later, he was once again unconscious.

Peter didn't know what to say. He had forgotten, not that he would ever tell El. His anniversary was in a week, and he had been so busy he had forgotten all about it. A crushing realization came upon him; Neal had borrowed his car to save him the guilt of forgetting his anniversary. Because of that, Peter made him come in to the bank on his unofficial day off. Because he was in that bank, he could very well die. Neal could die because he was doing something nice for him. The realization hit him like a cinderblock to the face. The guilt was suffocating him. This was, in some way, his fault. And as the paramedics took Neal out of sight, he knew that nothing he ever did was going to be able to change that...

* * *

><p>"Peter!" Peter turned when he heard Mozzie call his name. The balding man jogged up to the FBI agent in the hospital. "What happened? I leave New York for a couple of days and when Neal goes missing you don't call me?"<p>

"I did call you," Peter rolled his eyes. "Ten times to be exact. It went straight to voicemail."

"I told you I was getting a new number,"' Mozzie muttered.

"No you didn't!" Peter exclaimed, frustrated.

"I didn't?" Mozzie asked, surprised.

"No! You didn't!" Peter repeated.

"Oh..." Mozzie trailed off, not knowing what to say.

Peter sighed. "There's really nothing we can do here," he said at last. "Neal's in surgery."

"You go find whoever did this, I'm going to stay," Mozzie said, taking a seat.

Peter hesitated, then nodded. "Call me if anything happens," he said firmly.

"You will be my first call," Mozzie promised. Peter nodded and left the hospital...


	9. Hypothermia

_**Thanks for all the feedback! Please don't forget to comment!**_

* * *

><p>"Come on...there has to be something...anything..." Peter muttered as he worked through the mountain of files on his desk. He had literally everything they knew about Daniel Hansen and his family. Both Daniel and his wife, Tara, were only children. Both Tara and Daniel's parents died long ago, and the only place that would make sense for Daniel to go they had just raided. Daniel's cell phone was an untraceable burner. They had absolutely nothing to go on. Jones and Diana were out searching the forest for other houses he could have gone to. So far, nothing.<p>

Just then, the phone on his desk rang. With a weary sigh, he picked up, "Agent Burke."

"Suit, it's me," Peter would recognize Mozzie's voice anywhere. "Neal's out of surgery. He's awake."

He didn't have to say anything else. Peter said he'd be there in ten, and then he hung up, grabbing his keys and jogging down the stairs, walking swiftly through the bullpen, and hastily stepping into the elevator.

Peter weaved his way through traffic, using his siren, of course, and got to the hospital in no time at all. He put his car in park and jogged inside.

"Hi," Peter said when he reached the front desk. A pretty receptionist with brown hair and blue eyes looked up from her computer and smiled at him. "Can you tell me which room Neal Caffrey is in?"

"Caffrey?" She asked, typing the name into her computer. "He is in room 357. Go up two floors, and when you step off the elevator, go straight until you reach the first corner, then turn left. It will be the second-till-last door on your right."

"Thanks," Peter smiled, making his way to the elevator. Following the nurse's instructions, he found the room without difficulty.

When he saw Neal in the hospital bed, he felt a pang of guilt. There was a nasty bruise on his chin. His arms were both wrapped in gauze, where Peter could still see bloody patches from the cuts Hansen had given him. His skin was as pale as porcelain. He had several needles in his arms, one for pain killers, one for an IV, and one for the blood transfusion he needed.

"Peter," Neal smiled when he saw his friend, seeming tired, his voice a little hoarse. "Nice of you to join us."

"Hello, Suit," Mozzie nodded from his place beside Neal.

"Glad to see you awake, Neal," Peter forced a smile, still feeling incredibly guilty.

"Glad to be awake," Neal said, relieved. "Have you found Hansen yet?"

"Not yet," Peter sighed. "But we will. I promise."

"I know you will, Peter," Neal assured him. "What about Gabe and Lillie? Are they ok?"

"They're fine. They're staying with me and Elizabeth for a few days, and then I have to hand them over to child services," Peter told him regretfully, walking over to him and taking a seat in the extra chair beside Mozzie.

Upon hearing the news, Mozzie flinched. "Poor kids," he muttered. "They don't deserve that."

"They don't," Peter agreed. "But, unfortunately, I don't have a choice."

The three men were quiet for a moment.

"So, did you really get El an anniversary present for me?" Peter asked.

"Yes, Peter, I did," Neal grinned.

"What did you get her?" Peter asked, laughing slightly.

"A watch. Hers broke, and she's been dropping hints to you for weeks to get a new one," Neal told him.

"She has?" Peter asked, surprised.

"Yes," Neal and Mozzie said in unison.

Peter sighed. "I am not very good at this," he muttered.

"No, no you are not," Neal agreed whole-heartedly. All three men burst into laughter...

* * *

><p><em>Two Weeks Later...<em>

* * *

><p>Gabe and Lillie walked along the shore of the lake, taking in the sights of the forest surrounding them, reminiscing about the rare times when their father had taken them fishing here. The FBI still hadn't found their father. Peter had to give them over to child services the week before, but had made sure they got put with a decent family. Neal was doing well, and would be able to leave the hospital sometime in the next few days.<p>

"Remember when you were chasing that frog and fell into the lake?" Lille asked with a laugh as they approached the part of the lake that leaked out into a small river, with rapids not too far away.

"Oh, yeah," Gabe nodded with a goofy grin. "I remember."

At that moment, Gabe's phone rang. He pulled it out of his pocket and glanced at the caller ID.

"It's Peter," Gabe said, answering the call. "Hello?"

"Hey Gabe," Peter said cheerfully. "What are you guys doing?"

"Just walking by the lake," Gabe sighed. "Any luck finding my dad?"

"No, not yet," Peter said regretfully. "But we will."

Gabe was about to respond, but at that moment, the phone was knocked from his hand. Something hit him square in the back, and he fell to the ground with a thud. Lillie screamed, and Gabe rolled over to see what had happened. When he saw, his heart stopped and his blood ran cold.

"Dad," he gasped. Daniel Hansen was gripping Lillie's bruised upper arm, a gun in his hand, a crazed smile on his face.

"Hello, Gabriel," That was one of the first times his father had ever called him by his full name.

Gabe slowly got to his feet, ignoring Peter as he shouted at him through the phone. "Dad, what are you doing? Let her go," as he spoke, his terrified gaze kept rotating between his father, his terrified little sister, and the gun.

"Oh, you want me to let her go?" Daniel laughed. He dragged Lillie over to the edge of the river bank, where the rapids two feet down were just waiting to take her away. Lillie was too terrified to scream. "How about now, do you still want me to let her go?"

"Dad, stop it!" Gabe shouted desperately, taking a couple steps forward. When Hansen cocked the gun in his hand, he froze.

"I wish I did this a long time ago," Hansen chuckled. Then, to Gabe's horror, he let go of Lillie's arm. Lillie screamed, and then there was a splash as she plunged into the freezing cold rapids.

"No!" Gabe shouted, running at his father and grabbing hold of his gun hand with both of his, trying to get it away from him. The two fought for control of the weapon. Hansen pulled the gun down, trying to get Gabe to let go. While it was aimed at the ground, the gun went off, the bullet missing Gabe's foot by inches. After a few more moments, the gun went off again, only this time it found its purchase in Gabe's left shoulder. Gabe cried out, stumbling away from his father. Half of his foot went over the edge of the river bank. With a startled cry, Gabe lost his balance and fell into the frigid waters.

The shock of the cold took his breath away. He drew a breath, but instead of air, he drew water into his lungs. Panicked, he forced himself to the surface, coughing and spitting. It wasn't long before he was forced back under. The current was too strong.

"Lillie!" he cried the next time he broke the surface. He was being swept away from the lake at dizzying speeds. He was soon forced back under the water, but, determined to find his sister, he forced his way back up to the top. "Lillie!" he called again.

"Gabe!" the cry was faint, but close. Gabe looked around frantically, trying to find its source. He found it, twenty feet ahead, just seconds before it was pushed back under water.

"Lillie!" Gabe shouted, swimming with the current to catch up with her. When he found her, she was barely able to keep her head above the water. Gabe wrapped his arms under hers to keep her afloat, then pulled her over to the side, trying to climb the steep, muddy river banks, but to no avail. His wet sneakers couldn't grip the soggy earth beneath him.

"Oh God," Gabe muttered, panicked and starting to get tired. Finally, they ran into a tree that had fallen into the river, and Gabe grabbed it, knowing he probably wouldn't get another chance like this. "Alright, come on, Lillie," he urged his barely-conscious sister. He grabbed hold of a branch just above his head and used it to pull the two of them onto the log. He went slowly, one dead branch at a time, until, finally, he rolled off of it and onto dry land, breathing heavily. Beside him, Lillie was coughing up a surprising amount of water.

"Lil," he gasped. "Are you ok?"

"I-I'm f-f-f-fine," Lillie's teeth were chattering in the cool of the fall night.

The cold was starting to get to Gabe, too. He knew they couldn't stay there. The sun was going down. There was no way they could get back to the lake house before the light was gone. And walking along a deadly freezing river in the middle of the night with absolutely no light to guide them was not an intriguing idea.

"Come on, Lillie," Gabe said, standing up, pulling his shivering sister to her feet. "Let's see if we can find somewhere to rest."

With that, the two siblings made their way through the dense trees, shaking with cold, Gabe's bleeding shoulder thankfully numb, leaning on each other for support. He would never let Lillie know it, but Gabe couldn't help but wonder if they were going to make it out of that forest alive.

* * *

><p>Peter raced through the streets of New York, speeding to the lake Gabe had said they were at. When he reached it, he put his car in park and jumped out, gun drawn, racing to the lake shore, where he saw Hansen standing by the river, looking down at the water, a crazed look on his face.<p>

"Hansen," Peter called, taking aim. Hansen turned and looked at Peter.

"Where are they?" Peter growled.

"Who?" Hansen asked, laughing. "Oh, you mean my little bastard children? Dead, I hope. I threw them in the water."

"Put the gun down, Hansen," Peter commanded.

"No," Hansen refused. "I don't think I will." Slowly, Hansen started to raise his gun and take aim at Peter.

"Don't do it!" Peter warned. Hansen didn't listen, continuing to raise his gun. Peter, seeing no other choice, took the shot, hitting Hansen square in the heart. He was dead before he hit the ground.

Peter ran to Hansen's side and checked his pulse. Finding none, he took out his phone and called Jones. "Jones, I need a search and rescue team, now!" he said urgently, looking down at the murky water speeding past him. He just prayed to God they could find them in time. If they didn't drown, then hypothermia was still a huge threat. They would no doubt be dead by morning...


	10. Ready or Not

_**The final chapter! Sorry this took so long. I've been really distracted lately. Well, anyway, it's here now. Please enjoy and review!**_

* * *

><p>Gabe and Lillie had ditched their coats a while back, realizing the soaking fabric was doing more harm than good. Both teenagers were shivering as the sun began to set. Gabe's gunshot wound was burning, and he was sweating, even as his lips turned blue with cold. He was getting dizzy. He was sure he had an infection of some kind.<p>

"Hey," he said, stopping. Lillie, shaking severely, stopped too. "Let's stop here," he suggested, staggering over to a large oak tree, collapsing beside it, leaning against it for support, wincing in pain as he gripped his injured shoulder. The gauze on his arm, covering the wound from just before he went to Peter, was falling off, exposing the painful scratches to the dirty environment.

Lillie collapsed beside him, on his right side, so she didn't hurt his shoulder. She leaned into him, and found him alarmingly warm. Nervously, she looked at his face. He was pale, sweating, shaking, and wore a look of utter pain.

"Gabe?" She asked nervously.

"What?" Gabe's voice was weak when he spoke, and he let out a cough, which caused him to wince in pain.

"Are you ok?" Gabe could hear the fear in her voice.

"Yeah, Lil, I'm going to be fine," he assured her, turning and forcing as reassuring a smile as he could muster onto his face. "I promise."

They sat there for a few moments longer, then they stood up without a word and kept moving.

"Hey, Gabe?" Lillie spoke up.

"Yeah?" Gabe asked breathlessly, leaning heavily on her for support, his legs barely able to hold up his weight, his coughing growing worse.

"What if we don't get out of here?" she asked hesitantly.

"Stop it, Lillie," Gabe said sternly. "We're going to be fine. I promised Mom I'd take care of you, and I'm going to keep that promise."

"How?" Lillie asked tentatively.

"I don't know," Gabe admitted. He stopped walking for a moment, doubling over, coughing as deep, wet cough. Gabe was surprised he didn't actually cough up on of his lungs as his shoulders heaved. Lillie watched him with terror in her eyes.

Finally, the coughing subsided, and Gabe straightened up, continuing from where he left off. "But whatever it is I have to do, I'll do it. I'm not going to let anything happen to you. Besides, don't forget, I was on the phone with Peter. I'm sure he's on his way. He's probably already looking for us."

Lillie simply nodded, though she wasn't convinced. The sun was starting to go down. They were losing their light. Before long, it was pitch black outside.

Gabe stumbled over the rough terrain, shaking, sweating, his whole body on fire, yet freezing at the same time. It was a difficult feeling to describe. He was getting progressively worse as time went on. After a few minutes, he stumbled and fell.

"Gabe!" Lillie cried, concerned.

"I'm ok," Gabe assured her. "Let's stop here for the night, though..."

Lillie nodded and curled up beside him. Gabe wrapped his relatively-good arm around her protectively, keeping her warm, and, despite their desperate situation and her worry for her brother's health, calming her down a little. Before long, she was fast asleep...

* * *

><p>Peter followed the search dogs as they went down the river bank, sniffing for the children's scent, but so far finding nothing. There was a helicopter in the air, searching for them, but so far, they, too, had found nothing.<p>

"Come on, guys, where did you go...?" Peter muttered as he trekked through the woods with several others, calling the siblings' names. The sunlight was fading, but Peter didn't care. If it found Lille and Gabe, he would stay awake all night.

Several hours later, long after night had fallen, Peter got news from the chopper. "We've spotted them. They're about three miles ahead of you. We'll be landing in a clearing a nearby to take them out of there."

Peter raced forward into the trees, dread for what he might find making him want to stop, and hope that they might be alive lending him speed...

* * *

><p>Lillie woke up when she heard the helicopter overhead and the spotlight shone down on them. She quickly realized what was happening, and relief caused her heart to swell.<p>

"Gabe!" she cried, excited, shaking her brother. "Gabe, come on, wake up! Peter found us!"

Slowly, Lillie's excitement died when her brother didn't even stir.

"Gabe?" she asked hesitantly, her voice lost in the noise of the helicopter. Gabe's skin was chalk white. He looked like the personification of death. It was terrifying.

"Gabe, wake up!" Lillie shrieked urgently, shaking her brother. "Gabe, this isn't funny! Wake up!"

Soon, she realized her brother wasn't messing with her. He really wasn't waking up.

"Gabe..." Lillie sobbed, her shoulders heaving. She rested her head on her brother's good shoulder as the tears spilled from her eyes, hugging him tightly. "Gabe...please...don't leave me...no, no, no, this isn't happening...no...please..."

At that moment, Peter came into view. When he saw Lillie sobbing over Gabe's motionless body, his heart nearly stopped.

"You promised," Lillie cried, her voice full of sorrow. "You promised me..."

Even though he knew she wasn't talking to him, Peter still felt an enormous pang of guilt. He had promised these kids he wouldn't let anything happen to them if they helped him. He had gone back on that promise.

Peter watched as paramedics rushed from the direction of the helicopter, one carrying a stretcher. While three or four of them worked to get Gabe strapped into the stretcher, one gently peeled Lillie away from her brother's side. When she stood up, Lillie locked eyes with Peter. Her gaze was so full of sorrow, pain, and hopelessness; it shook Peter to his core. Then she was led away, towards the helicopter, her brother carried along behind her.

Peter was unable to move, and just stood there, watching as the helicopter rose into the sky and took off in the direction of the hospital...

* * *

><p>"<em>Gabe..." Gabe opened his eyes and blinked. He was in the tree house, one of the only places on earth he felt safe. And he couldn't believe who was there with him.<em>

_His mother, looking just as he remembered her, stood on the other end of the tree house. She smiled encouragingly at him._

"_Mom," Gabe choked out, tears of joy in his eyes. He closed the distance between them in a few quick steps and wrapped his arms around her, squeezing her tightly. "I missed you so much."_

"_I missed you too," Tara Hansen whispered, giving her son a kiss on the top of his head, which she could now barely reach. After a moment, Gabe pulled away._

"_I am so proud of you," Tara smiled, tears in her eyes, holding him at arm's length, looking him up and down._

_It was then that Gabe noticed that his shoulder didn't hurt. His arm wasn't scraped up. His back wasn't in pain. Old scars that he used to see on the backs of his arms and hands were no longer there. He was perfectly healthy, as if nothing bad had ever happened to him._

"_What happened?" Gabe asked hesitantly, unsure if he wanted to know. "Where am I?"_

"_Nowhere, yet," Tara smiled sadly. "You got hurt pretty bad, Gabe."_

"_Wait...I'm not...dead, am I?" Gabe asked breathlessly._

"_No," Tara said quickly. "You're not dead yet."_

"_Yet?" Gabe asked hesitantly. "What do you mean, I'm not dead yet?"_

"_You're body is still alive," Tara explained. "It's up to you if you want to go back to it."_

"_What about Lillie?" Gabe asked urgently. "Where is she?"_

"_She's not here," Tara offered. "So I have to assume she's ok."_

_Gabe let out a sigh of relief. "Thank God," he said softly._

"_She should be ok now," Tara said softly. "You can come with me if you want."_

_Gabe stared at her in shock. "What?" he said gasped, his voice just above a whisper._

"_No one would ever hurt you again," Tara continued. "You would never have to worry about anything ever again. You'd be happy. We'd be happy."_

"_But I can't just leave Lillie behind," Gabe protested. "She needs me."_

"_Peter's taking care of her," Tara assured him. "She'll be ok now. You don't have to hold on because of her. You can let go. You can come with me."_

"_But I promised her..." Gabe said softly, more to himself than her._

"_She's ready, Gabe," Tara said softly, "even if she doesn't know it. She'll survive without you. I don't want you to do anything you don't want to do. You can stay if you want, but if you want to come with me, that's ok, too."_

_Gabe hesitated, considering all his options, weighing everything in his mind. "Can I think about it?" Gabe asked, nervous, scared, and confused._

_Tara smiled. "Of course," she assured him. "Take as long as you need..."_

* * *

><p>Lillie sat in her hospital bed, staring at her brother's motionless form beside her. There was a breathing tube down his throat. His heart rate was irregular, and he was struggling to stay alive. He, like her, had suffered from hypothermia. But, unlike her, Gabe contracted pneumonia, made worse by what the doctors believed was an infection of some kind. The wound in his shoulder was believed to be the way he contracted the infection. They weren't sure if he got it in the water or while they were trekking through the forest, looking for help, but they were running tests to find out.<p>

Gabe had a little bit more color in his face, but his lips were still a little blue. It was getting much better, but he was still pretty pale. He looked weak and fragile, as if merely touching him would break him. Lillie had only ever seen him even remotely as bad as this was when their dad got drunk and carved him up, which left him with a nasty scar on his abdomen. Even then, Lillie had only been afraid that he would die for a short period of time. After that, he recovered quickly.

"Hey," Lillie looked up when she heard someone speak. She saw Neal standing in the doorway, holding his IV pole, looking much better than he had when she last saw him. He was wearing hospital-issue blue sweatpants and a white t-shirt, with no slippers or any type of shoes, just a pair of white socks.

"Hey," Lillie said softly. "How are you doing?"

"I'm doing good," Neal smiled. "What about you?"

"I'm fine," Lillie assured him.

"Good," Neal nodded. "And Gabe?"

Lillie fell silent, her eyes sad and fearful.

Neal sighed, making his way over to her and pulling a chair over, sitting down, looking her in the eye. "Your brother is going to be fine," Neal said firmly.

"How do you know?" Lillie asked, her voice shaky, trying to fight back tears.

"Because any kid who would stand up to a jackass dad like yours the way Gabe did, no matter how badly he was hurt, just to protect his sister, even though he knew he could get even more seriously hurt or worse, is not going to just lay down and die when you're here," Neal said sincerely.

"He promised me..." Lillie whispered, looking at her brother with an amazing amount of emotions. "He promised me he'd be ok..."

"Well, there you go," Neal said firmly. "He's going to be fine. He promised you."

"But what if he's not?" Lillie asked nervously. "What if he can't wake up?"

"Hey, your brother is an amazing kid," Neal reminded her. "From what I've seen of him, I wouldn't be surprised if he woke up right now. I wouldn't be surprised at all."

"I can't lose him," Lillie said, her voice shaking, a tear escaping her eye, her gaze locked on her brother's fragile form. "I'm not ready. I don't know what I'd do without him."

"You're not going to have to find out," Neal said confidently. "Not for a long time. And by then, you'll be living your own life. You'll both be really old. Right now, your brother is going to wake up, and you are going to be ok."

"How do you know that?" Lillie asked helplessly.

"I just know," Neal sighed, flashing her one of his most reassuring, award-winning smiles.

"Well, I hope you're right..." Lillie said softly.

* * *

><p>Peter looked in at Gabe and Lillie's motionless forms. It was after midnight. Lillie was fast asleep. Gabe was barely clinging to life. His body was weak, and the doctors weren't sure if it would be strong enough to fight off the infection and pneumonia that plagued his young body.<p>

Peter sighed, leaning against the doorframe, his stomach churning with guilt. He promised these kids that if they helped him get Neal home safely, nothing would happen to them. Obviously, he hadn't kept that promise. It killed him to know that he was supposed to keep them safe and to also know that he had been unable to do so.

Peter's guilt-riddled gaze fell on Gabe. Looking back, Peter knew that Gabe had never trusted anyone except Lillie. No one, as long as he'd been alive, had even tried to save them from their father. He was suspicious of everyone. And yet, somehow, Peter had gotten him to put his trust in him. Maybe Gabe was right not to trust a soul. It sure didn't help him this time around.

At least their monster of a father wouldn't be able to hurt them anymore. He was dead. At least Peter had been able to do that for them.

Peter studied the incapacitated young man resting on the hospital bed closest to him. He knew he was struggling to stay alive, fighting as hard as he could to keep breathing, despite the fluid in his lungs. He was one of the strongest people he knew, and he was only sixteen. He had an increadible amount of respect for the young man.

Gabe would be turning seventeen in a couple of months, Peter recalled. Hopefully, he'd be able to hold on long enough to celebrate.

"Come on, Gabe," Peter whispered with a sigh. "You've got to wake up..."

* * *

><p><em>Gabe sighed, leaning back against the tree house wall, so many thoughts rushing through his head, he could barely process it all. He was so torn. All his life, he could hardly remember a time when someone wasn't in some way hurting him. If he went with his mother, that would never happen to him again.<em>

_Yet, at the same time, despite what his mother said, he wasn't so sure Lillie was ready to carry on by herself. Or, perhaps more accurately, he wasn't sure if he was ready to leave her behind._

"_I have to go back, Mom," he said at last, standing up from the tree house floor. "I can't just leave Lillie like this. It's not fair to her."_

_Tara nodded. "I understand," she said sadly._

"_I'm sorry," Gabe said softly, his heart aching with sadness. His mother was the only person who tried to help him and his sister for so many years. He loved her. He didn't want to leave her behind._

"_Oh, sweetheart," Tara smiled a sad smile and pulled him into a hug. "It's ok. You don't have to stay."_

_Gabe hugged her back tightly, tears streaming silently down his face. Finally, Tara pulled away, once again holding him at arm's length._

"_I am so proud of you, Gabe," she said for the second time since seeing him. "I'm so proud of both of you. And I love you both so much."_

"_I love you too, Mom," Gabe choked on his words._

"_Don't worry," she said with a reassuring smile, noticing the touch of fear in her son's eyes. "I'll see you again someday. I just hope it won't be so soon."_

"_You and me both," Gabe said with a sad laugh. Tara laughed too, and hugged him one more time. Gabe, once again, hugged her back tightly._

"_You're right," Tara whispered in his ear. "It's time for you to go home..."_

* * *

><p>Gabe's eyes jolted open, gasping in a big breath of air. His eyes became panicked as he began choking on the breathing tube down his throat.<p>

Peter stared in shock for a moment, then called for a nurse. It didn't take long for not one, but several nurses to appear, the siblings' doctor on their heels.

"Gabe," The doctor said, taking out a pen light and shining it in each of the teenager's eyes, checking the responsiveness of his pupils. "Can you hear me?"

Gabe let out a stressed nod, still choking on the breathing tube.

"Good, can you raise your finger?" The doctor asked, glancing down at Gabe's hand. Gabe did as he was told, picking up his right index finger.

"Ok, good, good. Gabe, I'm going to take the tube out, but I need you to stay still, ok?"

Gabe nodded again as the nurses held him down. He struggled to remain still as the doctor slowly, carefully, pulled the plastic breathing tube out of the teenager's throat. When it was finally out, one of the nurses placed an oxygen mask over his face, and Gabe began to relax some.

"Where am I? What happened?" Gabe asked, his voice scratchy from the breathing tube and muffled by the oxygen mask.

"You're in the hospital. You got shot and fell into a freezing river," the doctor told him bluntly. "You're pretty sick, but we have you on some medicine that will help you body heal itself, so it looks like you'll be ok."

Lillie, who was now awake, stared at her brother with tears of joy in her eyes, while Peter stood in the doorway, weak with relief.

Gabe's head rolled to the side, and when he saw Lillie, he forced a tired smile. Lillie smiled back, so happy and relieved she could barely process what was happening.

Then Gabe looked over at Peter. "Thank...Thank you..." He said breathlessly. "Thank you so much..."

Peter just smiled. He really didn't think he deserved the young man's thanks, but he didn't say so. He was just grateful that, provided Gabe got better, and Peter had anything to say about it, these poor kids were going to be ok. They were going to make it. They had a future.

Peter couldn't ask for a better outcome to a worse situation.


End file.
